


Catwoman and Batman, Raven and Robin

by orphan_account



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Crack, Furry, Gen, Honestly I have no idea what I'm doing with my life, Other, Percy I'm so sorry, They are all furries, that's all this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-09-01 15:46:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8630056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: In which all of DCU are furries and Alfred doesn't deserve any of this.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [QueenOfTheNerdlords](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfTheNerdlords/gifts).



Upon reflection, Alfred decides it is all Penguin’s fault.

It is Penguin’s fault that every hero and villain across the United States (and Themyscira; Wonder Woman is probably the worst of all of them) is running around in fursuits.

Of course, it was already happening  _ before _ the Penguin came along with his ideas, what with the  _ Bat _ mans and  _ Cat _ womans,  _ Raven _ s and  _ Robin _ s, it should have been obvious something was going on. But it really all started when Bruce found the comics of one ‘furry_OswingCuddlepot_yrruf’.

 

It was on deviantArt that he first found them. Terribly drawn comics of an anthropomorphic penguin and dove, possibly wrestling to the death, possibly having very awkward, painful sex. The caption read,  _ Awww, Oswing and Ebony finally doing the deed. Next page will be up in a week.  _ It was honestly the worst thing Bruce had ever seen.

“Alfred, what’s a furry?”

“I’m afraid I’m unaware of the term, sir, I would suggest Urban Dictionary.” That was Alfred’s first mistake.

 

The second mistake came a few weeks later, Alfred reported an anonymous tip about Penguin being sighted at a ‘FurCon’ in Metropolis to Bruce. That would usually be Superman’s domain, but he was off helping out Wonder Woman in Themyscira, and Penguin was one of  _ Batman’s Villains _ ™ so Alfred thought Mr. Kent wouldn’t mind.

Bruce came back stoic, but starry-eyed, and proclaimed, “Alfred, Penguin wasn’t there, well, he was, but he wasn’t doing anything wrong, and well, there was no point in doing anything right then. But it wasn’t a complete waste of time, because I’ve decided I’m a furry.”

And here was the second mistake: “Very good, sir.” The consequences of those three words struck immediately.

“I need a suit.”

Nonplussed, Alfred nodded, pulling a notebook out of thin air, “What modifications would you like to be made?”

Bruce shook his head, and stared dramatically off into the distance over Alfred’s shoulder, “No, not another Batsuit, the one of have now is excellent, thank you. I need,” he paused, “a German shepherd fursuit.”o

Alfred squinted, trying to tell if Bruce has suddenly grown a sense of humor, “Sir?”

He pulled his phone out of his suit pocket, looking almost excited if Alfred didn’t know better, “Look.” Bruce scrolled through pictures of cutesy oddly human looking animals.

“I see, and you want a…” he trailed off, letting Bruce finish the sentence for him.

“I think I would be a German Shepherd.”

“Not a bat?”

“No, Alfred, of course not, being a bat’s my day job.”

“It is quite literally your night job. You literally moonlight being Batman, sir.”

“Alfred, don’t patronise me, I want a dog fursuit. Anthrocon is coming up. Look, I have designs. I’ve already sent downloaded them to the Batcave’s computers.”

Well, at least his young master was getting excited about something again, besides  _ Justice  _ and the phrase: “To the Bat__(replace with ‘cave’, ‘mobile’, or ‘computer’ as necessary)!”. It was rather endearing. In a very, very odd way. “I will get started immediately.”

“Good.”

 

After years of building the Batsuits for Bruce, Alfred had become quite handy with a sewing machine. However, creating a fursuit proved to be one of the hardest things he had ever done. The materials were foreign, the design was both impractical and difficult, and the entire concept seemed bizarre.

He spent hours doing extensive research on the differences between plantigrade and digitigrade, how to make paw pads, how to keep the suit cool. And it was, surprisingly,  _ fun _ . He started to enjoy it. The foreign fabrics became familiar, he smoothed out the flaws in the design, and he began to like the idea of it. It was  _ cute _ .

He finished Bruce’s. 

He started one for himself.

He staunchly ignored Bruce when he tried to explain why he couldn’t have a calico fursona. “Alfred, you don’t understand, only  _ girl  _ cats can be calico.”

“That’s very nice.”

“But you can’t make a fursuit for yourself that’s  _ calico _ .”

“May I ask why you are of this opinion?”

“Because you aren’t a  _ girl cat, Alfred, that’s why. _ ”

“Well, sir, I must say, you aren’t a girl dog, either, and you still manage to be a whiny bitch.”

“Alfred!”

“Sir!”

“Fine, have your stupid, biologically impossible, calico cat.”

“I will, thank you sir.”

Alfred spent the next week sending Bruce links of the science behind male calico cats.

Overall, the furry fandom entering both the Wayne Mansion and the Batcave was a generally positive experience.

 

It was when the Joker got involved that things started going downhill.

 

Harley Quinn is a genius. She’s brilliant. Alfred knew this, not enough people did. She had been following after the Joker for so long, worshipping him, they’d formed a warped codependency. She had become a pet to him, a hunting dog.

What Alfred did not know about Miss Harley Quinn was out from under the thumb of the Joker, and had been for a while.

He found out at Jo-Ann.

“Hi! I know you, you’re Batman’s sugar daddy!” A young woman screeched, throwing her arms around his neck. He froze. “Oh, my name’s Harley, in case you forgot, I used to hang around with Mister J.”

Alfred calmly put a hand on his shotgun, “Miss Quinn.”

She clearly noticed, but didn’t say anything. She just started rambling about why she was here, “I’m going to Anthrocon as a hyena this year, so I need to make an entire new costume, ‘cause I’ve been going with the Clown for years, and he always wants me ta go as one a those spotty dogs, a dalmatian, right? Anyway, Red is goin’ with me, I’m not really sure if she gets the point, but she’s tryin’ which is nice a her. Oh, wait, ya don’t know what that is, it’s, um,” she stuttered.

Alfred took his hand off the shotgun. “I am aware, Bruce and I are going this year.”

Harley stopped, looked him up and down, looked in his trolley, “Huh. Penguin, right?” He gave a quick nod, a little surprised. “I don’t know if I

’d call it a plan for world domination, but he’s trying to turn us all inta furries, and I think it’s workin’ pretty well, considering. Not that we weren’t in the first place, eh, Batbutler?”

“I’m going to go buy these now.”

“Ah, yeah, see ya later, Fred, tell Brucey I said hi!”

He decided he would not tell Bruce she said ‘hi’.

 

Bruce and Clark are exhausting when they’re together. It’s even worse when Clark is the one in Gotham. He gets so smug about his ‘pristine city’. It infuriating for everyone involved, but especially Bruce. So Alfred is not looking forward to Lois Lane’s interview of Bruce Wayne. Because where Miss Lane went, Superman followed. It was a little obsessive.

Either way, Alfred was quite put off.

Sure enough both Lois Lane and Clark Kent pulled up to Wayne Manor. Alfred greeted them at the door, “Master Bruce in the study. I believe the interview will be private?”

Lois shot Clark a look, and nodded, “Yes, of course, Clark can wait in the car, because I insisted he  _ did not come _ .”

“That won’t be necessary.”

 

Alfred handed the cup of green tea to Clark. He then sat down at the opposite end of the sofa, saying nothing. It was fairly easy to put Clark on edge, and damned if it wasn’t a little fun.

“So…”

“Sir?”

“How are you and Bruce doing?” He asked awkwardly, clearly trying to end the silence.

“I don’t catch your meaning?”

“Oh, you’re not...?” Alfred gave no indication, “Nevermind.”

Alfred finally took pity on him, and stood up, “Would you like to see my project?”

“Um, sure?”

“I’m creating an animal costume for Anthrocon.”

“Would you mind explaining?”

 

The interview finished and Lois came into the tea room to see Clark talking animatedly about the difficulty of sewing and animals to Alfred, who was occasionally nodding. It was a very strange view.

 

“What was that about?” Bruce asked as they watched the couple drive away.

“I believe I just turned Superman into a furry.”

“Oh, good for you then.”

 

Clark often texted Alfred work-in-progress pictures of his suits. He didn’t pick one animal, and by the time Alfred had finished his calico suit, Clark had created four separate suits, a bear, a panther, an otter, and some sort of Kyrptonian animal that looked like a cross between a dragon and a horse. Alfred was quite impressed. Bruce complained that he needed more fursuits, because “Kent can’t have more than I do!”

 

Alfred saw Harley several more times at Jo-Ann, once with her new girlfriend, Pam Isley, who is also a doctor. Alfred tells them they look very cute together (despite him finding Pam oddly and disconcertingly familiar). Apparently, Pam is going to Anthrocon as a fly trap Pokémon called Carnivine. He isn’t really sure what it is, but she looks very excited about it. Harley looks entranced by her smile.  _ They’re good for each other _ , he thinks.

 

He’s not sure how it happens exactly, but over the next few months, every single superpowered hero or villain or mercenary has a fursona, except Mister Freeze, who’s an ardent supporter of Steven Universe, and has a Diamond gemsona. He’s run into Catwoman, Joker, and Riddler all within the last week at Jo-Ann, and the trend has no end in sight.

The cashiers at Jo-Ann don’t even blink when the Joker slams down yards of splotchy black and white leather, aren’t even thrown by Two-Face with an armful of boas, no, the Jo-Ann staff are hardened warriors by this point.

 

It doesn’t really effect anything. No villain stops their plans for world domination, and the heroes keep stopping them, Alfred tries to stay out of the way for the most part, he notices when a villain is at whatever fabric store or convention he’s visiting at the time, but nothing else.

It goes on like this for a while. Until Anthrocon.

The convention hall is already overrun with people, and throwing in hundreds of assorted villains and heroes from all over the United States (plus Wonder Woman, and she was a force unto herself, Alfred wasn’t even quite sure how she joined the trend, he just started seeing her at all the sewing competitions, she won Best of Show every time, with ridiculously detailed designs of different wild cats) did nothing to help the chaos. It wasn’t that bad at first, but after Clark cheated at the Costumed Race (Alfred isn’t quite sure why it’s cheating, it his his ability, just because Bruce doesn’t have it doesn’t mean that Clark is cheating), both Harley and Bruce sided against him.

Heroes and Villains are showy by nature. There are no exceptions, even if Bruce often complains that he isn’t, Alfred knows damn well he’s just as much a drama queen as Joker.

Everyone notices when Batman in a German shepherd fursuit, and Superman in some sort of dragon thing are wrestling on the ground, with Harley Quinn screaming “You cheater!” over them. Diana Prince holding the Head of her suit standing over them with her lasso around them.

“Did Clark Kent cheat?”

“No!”Clark shouted.

“Yes” Bruce shouted.

She looked a little confused.

The Joker, never to be left out of any attention, started throwing out joy buzzers to the growing crowd. It was chaos. Alfred sat and watched waiting til his intrusion would be necessary. Harley was holding his shoulders jumping up and down behind him. Her girlfriend looked somewhere in between proud, and wanting to shrivel up and die from embarrassment.

A young woman in a pantsuit pushed her way into the center of it, bent over, “I’m afraid, you’ll have to, leave,” she stood up straight, apparently regaining her breath, “Or I’ll be forced to call security.”

The idea that “security” could do anything about the most dangerous Heroes and Villains in the world was laughable, but Alfred admired the woman’s certainty. He cleared his throat.

 

Alfred managed to herd them all out within the hour. He stood next to Bruce in a crowd of superhumans. “I believe some of you would be interested in creating our own ‘Anthrocon’ as it were? Considering we are  _ all _ banned from future furrycons?”

There were was a collective murmur of agreement.

“I will be setting one up for the next year. Please write your preferred pseudonym and contact information on this paper. I will be needing volunteers.”

 

The first names on the list were:

Diana Prince --  [ princespride@pridewildcatdesigns.com ](mailto:princespride@pridewildcatdesigns.com)

Oswald Cobblepot --  [ ebonylover@gmail.com ](mailto:ebonylover@gmail.com)

Clark Kent -- superman@superman.xyz

And

Bruce Wayne -- We live together

 

It was all Penguin’s fault. From the very beginning. But it didn’t turn out that bad. Every year the “SuperPowered International Exhibit for Suits” marked a truce. No murder, no arresting, no avenging. It was ridiculous and it was wild. It was one of the most competitive, selective annual events. Tickets were only available through invitation, and no one was quite sure what to do to get the invitation.

After Superman himself publically endorsed the convention, requests for invitations went wild.

Alfred planned it every year. Bruce ‘helped,’ meaning he gave orders, and Alfred selectively picked the few ideas that would actually realistically work. 

The young woman that had kicked them out of the convention turned out the be none other than Victoria Vale. She joined the board for the SPIES.

Her job was to put together the actual con, Alfred’s job was to keep the identities of the attendees secret.

 

All in all it worked surprisingly well.

Honestly, he probably owed Penguin for everything.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry.  
> This is pure crack, and it's Hartfairy's fault.  
> Happy REALLY late birthday!!


End file.
